Buy One Get Two Free
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Loving the world building your doing awesome work
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After a while, I turned the movie back on, though neither of us really watched it.
On Miranda’s part, it more the fact she couldn’t watch it: from her position, my arm rose like a wall in front of her, blocking her vision, while also holding her tight enough she couldn’t have freed herself even if she wanted to. And she didn’t; once she got over her shock, she merely wiggled a little, rotating herself until her back was to my arm, before closing her eyes and apparently falling asleep, right there in my lap.
I could have watched it, of course, but I didn’t. Miranda laying there in my arms, so small, so vulnerable, yet despite of that so trusting, was… entrancing. I could have sat there all day, watching that tiny chest rise and fall, the stress on her face vanished, it’s former presence only made clear now by its absence.
Eventually, she woke up, and there was a moment, then, a single perfect moment. Miranda looked up at me, eyes still blinking away the sleep, and smiled, ever so slightly, in a pure, innocent happiness.
It made everything worth it. Everything, all the time and money I had spent, all the times she held my heart in her hands, massive and helpless all at once, as she squeezed, all of it and more paid for that brief instance of peace and joy.
Then, of course, it passed: her face froze in realization, before hardening, the walls rising again in front of me, rejecting me. She sat up, somehow formal and harsh all at once.
It hurt seeing that, a sharp, piercing pain, like a jagged shard of glass thrust deep into my chest.
I felt my face lose whatever expression it had held in response, pulling away, my back straightening from the slight bend it had been in for… hours, probably.
A tense silence fell between us, each waiting for the other to make the first move, both of us unsure how to act. Our relationship, her a Min, me her owner, had been one of sudden, drastic changes, struggling to find an equilibrium; would I be cruel to her? Kind? Would she accept me? Flee from me?
I couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened here would determine the direction of it for the near future, maybe forever, and I… didn’t know what to do. What I wanted to do.
I wanted to take her, break her, dress her in collars and chains as she dangled limp in my hands, make her scream my name, again and again, voice so loud and hoarse and broken it was impossible to tell it was from pain or pleasure.
I wanted to comfort her, protect her, hold her close and keep her safe, serve her food on fine china and dress her like a queen, give her everything and anything she wanted, just to see that one perfect smile again, chasing even the faintest hint of kindness or praise relentlessly.
I wanted to reject her like she had me, to cast her aside to crawl on the floor, naked and thin and dirty and alone and afraid, looking up at me and her friends so high above her, desperate for even a crumb of attention, begging for mercy, for a chance at an opportunity she knew was now long past.
I wanted to rend her limb from limb, feel her flesh twist in between my fingers, to rid myself of this nagging thing that had haunted me for years now, to be gloriously free and unburdened and to never look back at what I left behind me.
I wanted all of it. None of it.
I-
Miranda struck first.
“I-Ian,” she said, stammering in the face of whatever she saw in me, “Ian. I… would you mind if I went to bed? Please?”
Her voice sounded one step short of pleading, and her eyes shone with tears as she tried, and failed, to appear in calm and control.
It occured to me, then, that Miranda had stood at the same crossroads that I had, that she too had warred against her choices, but had arrived at a single perfect answer: nothing. No change, positive or negative, no bridges built or burnt, all the problems and questions between us shoved aside to be dealt with another time.
The status quo preserved.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, cleared my throat and tried again.
“Alright.” I croaked.
It was an unspoken agreement of her choice, and she relaxed ever so slightly at the acceptance.
Carefully, I closed my hand around her torso, my grip slow and gentle. Miranda didn’t resist, but didn’t relax, either, as I lifted her up into the air.
I should probably have brushed my teeth, maybe taken a shower, but I just didn’t have the energy for it anymore; those few minutes of indecision had left me emotionally and physically drained. All I wanted to do was to sleep.
Quietly I turned off the TV, flicked off the lights, and walked into the bedroom, setting Miranda slowly on the nest of thin blankets and fabric I had prepared for her , all of them set on a large, plush dog bed so soft that even her tiny weight made her sink down into it.
Both of us where silent as I changed, unceremoniously removing clothes before putting on my pajamas. At any other time, I knew, this would all be immensely embarrassing for me; to be naked, or just short of it, right in front of Miranda like this, but I just couldn’t muster the energy to feel anything.
I climbed into bed and plunged the room into darkness.
“…Goodnight, Miranda.” I said finally.
She didn’t say anything. For awhile I lay there, waiting, hoping for a reply, but there was nothing.
Eventually I fell asleep.
I planned for literally none of this. They were just supposed to go to bed. I had all a little conversation about it planned, and then… this.
It all feels… overly dramatic?
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@i-am-insane said in Buy One Get Two Free:
It all feels… overly dramatic?
I thought it was nice. The interactions were pretty top-notch in my opinion, and they really set the mood.
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I have to say it felt real like two people is a real life situation trying to feel there way though it both trying to find a way though it both not wanting to be the bad guy
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I didn’t look at the dog bed when I woke up. I didn’t know if Miranda was there or not, and I didn’t want to know. Not yet, anyways.
I’m not sure how much the other two saw last night, but if nothing else they sure picked up on my mood: by the time I finished scrambling some eggs on the stove, they were at the edge of the table again, mere steps from the ladder, and all but cowering as they tried to avoid my attention. I left them to tremble as I prepared the table: two small plates, each with a tiny portion of eggs, and a larger plate, where I put the rest of the eggs. It was as I was applying some jelly to the toast that I realized that there was no sign of Miranda, and that for all I knew she didn’t even know I was making food.
I would have liked to say I thought about the decision, but at the same time part of my mind was noting that the eggs wouldn’t reheat well, my mouth was opening to shout.
“Breakfast is going to get cold, Miranda!”
There. Conscious assuaged. If she still didn’t show up, then it was her fault she was going to eat sub-par scrambled eggs, not mine. Amber and Mia, if anything, lowered themselves even farther down on the table at the sound of my voice, but a minute passed and there was still no sign of Miranda.
“Looks like it’s just us, then.” I announced to the Mins, who didn’t seem reassured by my statement, but I ignored their fear and sat down to eat.
Part of me was irrationally, bitterly glad that Miranda was ignoring me: it let me be angry easier, let me put the blame for our… everything on her. Another part noted that if I wanted her at the damn table so bad, I could just make her come: she only had a choice in the matter if I let her have one. She was, it reminded me, not my girlfriend who I was having a fight with, she was the Min I owned. I could blame her for whatever I wanted, do to her whatever I wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it, and that fact was oh so tempting.
The rest of me was just pining for her presence, pathetically so. I knew, in the end, I’d be stupidly happy just watching her go about her day, even if she was ignoring me, and that fact only fed into my irritation.
The worst part of it all was the fact this was all her fault in the first place! I hadn’t expected anything from her beyond annoyance and dismissal, and I had resigned myself to a life of lonesome longing before I had even met with her; it was Miranda, in the first place, who brought up and accepted in the same breath the fact I could and would use her. It was Miranda who plead to me for safety, cried over my kindness, smiled at me with that damn smile of hers, only to all but spit in my face minutes later.
I could deal with getting nothing from her, I expected to get nothing from her, so why did she keep taunting me with all these fantasies of anything more?
Why did she keep getting my hopes up?
I was so busy fuming, only half heartedly eating my food to better wallow in my bad mood, that I was lost to the world around me until I felt a slight tug at one of the legs of my pants.
“Uh.” Miranda began, refusing to look me in the face. “Is… is it too late for me to eat?”
I stared at her, stunned and mouth still filled with eggs, for so long that she took at as a rejection.
“Oh”. She murmured softly, seeming to fold in on herself ever so slightly, before beginning to turn away.
“OK then. That’s… I’ll just-”
I swallowed hastily. “Wait!”
Miranda flinched at my shout, but stopped moving. “Wait! Of course you can eat! I was just… surprised.”
“Oh!” She said again, her tone suddenly lighter. “Thank you!”
There was a pause where neither of us moved.
“Would you… like me to help you up?” I ventured.
Yesterday, I knew, I wouldn’t have even thought about moving her to the table. Today, though, today taking that liberty felt… wrong. Like we were starting fresh, and if I wasn’t careful, I could wreak any chance I had of us having something better than how it had been.
Miranda, apparently, was just as surprised by my sudden courtesy as I was, and stared at me for a moment before smiling gently.
“That… that would be nice.” She said, sounding almost shy.
Slowly, I reached down to her, grabbing Miranda firmly around the hips before lifting her as smoothly as I could. She tensed slightly at my approached, but only that: she didn’t try to run from me, and even relaxed slightly at my firm grip on her body.
Then she was on the table again, and we were both trying and failing to eat, distracted by each other’s presence.
“Oh!” I said, starting to get up from the chair. “I just remembered I got you silverware to use. Give me a minute and I’ll grab it-”
Miranda jerked away at my sudden movement, and I froze. For a tense second we stared at each other, before she sighed and waved me down.
“Sorry about that, I just… panicked a little.” She shook her head. “This isn’t going how I wanted it to at all. Can you just… sit down for a minute? I want to ask you something.”
I nodded before lowering myself gingerly to my seat. Miranda sighed again.
“Ian, I-” She cut herself off, pinching her nose with one hand while holding the other up. “Actually, can you just… give me a minute?”
I officially had no idea what was going on. “…Sure.” I said finally.
“Thanks.” Miranda said almost absently, before starting to pace back and forth on the table, muttering to herself.
A quick glance to the side revealed that Amber and Mia were just as confused as I was, if less worried than they had been before: while it looked like they still hadn’t touched their food, they seemed far less stressed than they had been the last time I looked at them.
She stopped and took a deep breath. “Alright.”
I focused on her as she turned to face me. “Ian. I… it occurs to me that I handled things… badly, between us. Everything, honestly. I didn’t need to make things so adversarial between us. I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. You’ve been doing me, all of us, this incredible favor and I’ve been rude to you in return. I’ve just been in a bad place recently-”
She gestured at her body, before waving her arms out at the entire room, and how vast it was in comparison to her.
“-Obviously, and I’ve been taking it… badly. Which makes this next part even more awkward than it would have been.”
I leaned back in my chair as she stopped for a breath, my jaw on the floor.
Holy shit. She was apologizing. Holy shit.
“I had a hard time in the Kennel,” Miranda continued. “There is very little structure there, outside of some basic rules imposed on us, and so the biggest among us ruled. I’m big for a Min, more than enough to give Amber and Mia some protection, but there was one woman there who was bigger than me. Sydney…” Miranda winced. “Was unhappy with my presence. She felt like I was moving in on her territory, and wasn’t afraid to take it out on me.”
She snorted. “Which was stupid, really, because I wasn’t a threat to her; I tried to fight her when she got in particularly nasty mood, several times, actually, and I didn’t stand a chance. But she did it, anyways.”
She stopped, fists clenched, and I waited patiently for her to continue, barely able to breath.
“I hate her.” Then louder. “I hate her, Ian! I hate that stupid, over sized bitch! I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want to be ‘in her way’! I just wanted to be left alone, and she just-”
Miranda was screaming now, clenched fingers clawing through the air. “I want to make her pay! I want to her to be the one to be afraid, to be the one crying! I want to hurt her, Ian! So much!”
She stopped and panted, catching her breath as I stared at her, enraptured by the display.
“But I can’t.” Miranda continued, suddenly as calm as could be. “I’m here and she’s there, and even if I could get to her, she’d beat me just as effortlessly as before. I can’t do anything.”
She lifted her head to stare me straight in the eye. “But you can, Ian. You promised me, yesterday. You said you would protect anyone I wanted to protect, and hurt anyone I wanted hurt.”
“I want her to hurt, Ian.” Her voice was like a blade: sharp, cold and completely merciless. “Her name is Sydney Wilson, and I want her to hurt.”
For a long moment I stared at Miranda, at her determination, at the weakness that she had just laid before me. This, I knew, was my chance, my choice: I could take this opportunity she gave me, and build some kind of bond with her, or reject it, and her, forever.
I nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Your daily reminder that this is not a nice story I’m writing.
Also, the real reason I’m annoyed at the name of this fic: I’ve finally reached the point where it no longer matches, and at this point, it’s probably too late to change it. Also, I wouldn’t know what to change it to.
This ‘twist’, if it is a twist to you, was something I had always planned to do, but… later. Then again, this fic, both within and without, seems to be about recklessly accelerating relationships, so it’s fitting in a way. I’ve got to say, though, working in the new character with the olive branch to ‘fix’ their relationship (and oh, what a fucked up olive branch it is: torture my enemy for my love!) for their relationship is a stroke of genius I wish I could take credit for, but I have like… only three or four plot points for this entire story. The rest is all flailing and spinning bullshit.
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Ooooo the true power has risen and the road to hell and all that
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Again, I was surprised by how fast the process was; bureaucracy, in my experience, was a thing of many forms and periods of waiting, often followed by even more waiting. Outside of the changes I had made, getting Miranda had been a process of several days, assumably with whatever work she may have done on her end to help the process along; for Sydney, I had expected at least a week.
Instead, when I called the DMC, I had an appointment made for an hour later.
As it turned out, Sydney was on a list of Mins with that, by default, accepted anyone interested in her as a potential host. Since I was already in the system at this point, all we needed was that one meeting, and, if she agreed, I could walk out with her.
Miranda only snorted when I explained this to her, looking amused at my ignorance from her lofty position atop the left armrest, sitting just in front of my hand. My agreement to help her get revenge had helped her relax around me, somewhat. There was still a wary look in her eye when she saw me, but she seemed willing to have an actual conversation with me now.
“Of course she’s on the list, Ian: everyone I’ve ever met there was on the list. Hell, I was on the list.”
I didn’t say anything, absently watching her little legs as they dangled in the air, but Miranda glanced at my face and continued to explain, her tone serious now. “No one wants to be there, Ian, and when you Min, you feel… abandoned. The world hates you, your friends and family give up on you, and you’re left in the Kennel to rot. Everyone has heard a story of someone whos ends up living in a bird cage or something, just a living decoration for their Master to enjoy, but even so most would take that, because at least then they’re wanted. Someone looked at hundreds or thousands of Mins crawling around their feet and picked you out, out of all them clamoring for attention; and maybe it’s because you’re blond, or you have big boobs, or a nice voice, and sure, maybe you end up spending your days on that perch, singing sweet songs and being fed table scraps, but at least it’s you doing it, at least you are the one worthy enough to get even that much. Even if he looks at you like a toy, well…”
Miranda trailed off, before finishing bitterly, “At least he’s looking at you.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute.
“I always knew, you know.” Miranda started abruptly, staring off toward the door. “That you’d take me, I mean. We never talked much, but your Change came up awhile ago, so you were safe, and your willingness was… obvious. When you’re first picked up, they always ask if there’s anyone who might be able to take you in, and I knew, in that instant, that all I had to was ask. Mia was right, most Mins would kill for an opportunity like that.”
“Why?” I croaked, my voice hoarse with the weight of the question that had been burning in me for weeks now. “Why didn’t you? Why did you wait so long to ask?”
She sighed. “Fear, at least in part. Fear, and me lying to myself. I… never really liked you, Ian, you know that. You were always nice enough, but you’d look at me and you were always so… intense about it. Hungry, even. There are creepier ways a man can look at you, I admit, but it was more than just wanting to see me naked, or to rape me, it was like you wanted to own me, to put me a box on your shelf or something.”
Miranda paused, and blushed. “I’ll admit, part of me thought it was nice, to get that much of reaction from you, to have a man just look at me and fall madly for my charms, but it was also scary Ian. You never pushed me, you never did anything you shouldn’t, but it was like being a piece of meat in a room with a well trained dog: even if it’s not doing anything, you know it’s just a few words away from gulping you down. And then I Min’d and…”
She shuddered. “It scared me. You scared me, Ian; you still do. Even now, you’re still that dog, just as hungry as ever, still patiently eyeing me, waiting for that word to pounce. Only now you’re a dog as big as a house, looming over me with drool dripping from those big sharp teeth of yours, so close I can feel your breath threaten to knock me over, and there’s nothing holding you back: no leash, no collar, nothing but your willingness to obey.”
Almost unconsciously I found myself brushing a finger under my lips, looking for anything wet, and she laughed, sounding slightly hysterical.
“It’s… a little intoxicating, really, to have something as big as you are listen to me, to have that kind of power under my command.” Miranda smiled at me, excitement dancing in her eyes, mixed with with something darker. “But it’s dangerous, too: it’s all too easy to forget that the power isn’t mine, not really. You’re just letting me use it, and you could just as easily take it away.”
“I wouldn’t-” I begin, only to stop after a moment as I realized how intensely I was staring. WIthout realizing it, I found myself licking my lips, and she giggled.
“Face it, Ian,” Miranda said, patting my hand gently. “You would. You really would.”
Then the amusement left her face. “As for the other reason… just before it happened, Jarrett and I got in a fight. A big one. I left that day angry, and when he didn’t answer the request, I thought… he was just mad at me. That he was trying to punish me, and after a day or two, he’d come get me. Days turned to weeks, and there was still no word. It was a month in when I finally accepted the obvious: Jarrett didn’t want anything to do with me. If he had, he would have picked me up that day, fight or not.”
Slowly, I lifted up my hand and moved it towards her, one finger extended. Miranda watched it for a moment, face carefully blank even as her eyes glittered with the faintest hint of tears, but ultimately gave a little half shrug of her shoulder that I took as permission. Gently, I ran the finger tip down her back and she stiffened for a moment at the touch, before relaxing and leaning into my touch.
“That realization hit me harder than I would have liked,” Miranda continued, her tone admirably calm. “And it took me a while to get over it. Him. I… I thought were were getting pretty serious, before all of this. We were arguing about me moving in with him. He was for it, I wasn’t sure yet.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “Can you imagine, Ian? How fast everything changed? Just a day ago he was almost begging me to move in with him, but when I needed him to take me in, what does he do?”
She laughed again, sounding at the edge of tears. “He just gave up on me, Ian! He didn’t even have the courtesy to give me a ‘No’!”
For a minute, I thought she was going to cry again; I was sure she was at the edge of it. For whatever reason, though, Miranda pulled herself together, and wiped her face with the face of her arm instead.
“If… if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone for awhile, Ian.” No matter how she phrased it, it was a question, and both of us knew it. I didn’t have to listen to her, and more than that I didn’t want to listen to her. I didn’t want to let her go, much less when she was feeling so vulnerable… but she wanted to, and we were doing so much better, now; I didn’t want to ruin everything just because I was impatient.
When I laid my hand back on the armrest, Miranda smiled up at me, surprised and pleased all at once. Guilt bubbled in my stomach at the fact that respecting her even that much was something so hard for me to do, and so unexpected for her to receive, even as her joy soothed the edge of my shame.
“Thank you, Ian.” She sniffled a little. “I appreciate this. I’ll… I’ll be back by the time you come back from the Kennel.”
And then, before I could say anything, she slipped off the chair, slid down my leg, and ran off into the house.
xxx
Scale Woman nodded to me politely. “Good to see you again, Mr. Hunter.”
“And you.” I replied briefly, since I still had no idea what her name actually was.
She huffed slightly, apparently just as unimpressed with me as ever. “If you’ll follow me, you meeting is rig-”
“Wait.” Scale Woman raised an eyebrow at my interruption, but let me continue anyways. “When I called, I had a… request.”
I had asked for Sydney by name when I called, but before I hung up I took a risk and asked that my interest in her in particular be kept from the Min. The man on the line had given me some bland reassurances, but I didn’t actully know if they had followed through on it or not.
Something about that must have interested her, because the boredom in her gaze vanished, and she examined me with mild interest.
“Yes, Mr. Hunter, your… request.” She emphasized the word with a mocking grin. “Rest assured, we did not tell her you were looking for ‘Sydney Wilson’, but simply that her criteria met your interest.”
“And she believed that?”
And there was the contempt again. “Sydney is the largest Min in our facilities, one of the largest Mins on record, to be frank. She’s used to getting more attention than the norm.”
Apparently done with the conversation, she turned on her heel and strode off, forcing me to follow her.
xxx
As it turned out, Scale Woman hadn’t exaggerated: the Min waiting for me atop the table in the meeting room was the biggest I’d ever seen, bar none. Miranda was on the high end, I knew, but Sydney must have been twice her height, easy; it was no surprise she was able to so easily push her around. She was also, I realized as I took in the form of the lithe creature before, drop dead gorgeous: warm bronze skin complemented by night black hair, long enough to reach her feet and artfully arranged to give her modesty, which only served to highlight all the features it hid. Over all, the effect only served to grant her an appearance even more sensual than just bared skin would have provided.
Sitting there, legs demurely folded beneath her as she waited for me, Sydney Wilson looked like nothing less than a fey creature out of a story, an exotic beauty that, in other circumstances, I would never be worthy to even approach.
Part of me wondered if I would see her adorning the cover of a magazine or two, if I was to investigate her in any depth. The rest of me had realized that this creature, small as it was, had hurt Miranda, and that anger helped shield me from being overwhelmed by her charms.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scale Woman watch me with what I could only believe was approval on her face I proceeded to the chair without making a fool of myself.
Sydney straightened up and began to examine me in turn, and I took the time it afforded me to examine my feelings on her. Normally, I knew, the idea of someone hurting Miranda would have filled me with a burning rage, but looking at this woman, it was somehow too… personal an emotion to feel for her. She was too small for me to truly hate in that way, too weak. I didn’t like her, but I felt no overwhelming desire to cause her pain, either.
I’d do it, of course, but it was good to realize I wouldn’t end up killing her in some fit of rage; that’d be far too quick for what I had in mind.
“I have one question for you.” Sydney said, in a melodious voice. “Will there…”
She sighed suddenly, and slumped on the table, the ethereal air she had maintained gone in an instant, leaving only a Min as it left. She looked tired and defeated as she stared at me, and held her arms up as if to accept handcuffs. “Will there be diapers?”
What.
“What?”
“Five months ago, an old man came and tried to take me.” Sydney gritted out through clenched teeth. “He delighted in telling me about how he’d keep me in a cradle, make me wear diapers, feed me from a bottle, and in general treat me like an infant, and how wonderful it was that I was so large.”
What the fuck.
“I turned him down, obviously, and you’re the first person who has met me since then with a desire to take me home. I’m willing to put up with a lot of things, Mr. Hunter,” Sydney continued, staring me in the eye. “I doubt you’re going to be kind to me, and I accept that, but being infantilized like that is where I draw the line.”
“I’m not going to put you in diapers.” I sputtered incredulously.
I planned on humiliating her, obviously, and hurting her, but I had no interest in that.
She stared at me critically, but the sheer disgust at the idea must have been clear on my face, because after a moment she nodded. “Then I accept your generous offer… Master.”
Fun fact: DMC stands for Department of Minimal Control. Yes, the name is a tad ironic, and people are aware of that. Though the slang for shrunken women in this setting is ‘Min’ in common usage, more technically it stands for a ‘Minimal’. It’s also a verb, though, for ‘Minimizing’, which is the technical term for a woman shrinking and becoming a Min.
Surprisingly enough, I didn’t actully consult a Random Name Generator for Ian’s last name.
BTW, I’m curious: what is the impression you’re all getting of Ian’s personality thus far? I know what I’m going for, but I’m not sure how well it’s getting across.
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A average with guy with average desires he’s a bit of a creep but not to far gone he’s harder on himself than he admits and when put into a role of total power he still holds back. Honestly he’s shown more restraint and caring than I would have
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When I returned home, it was to the sight of all of my Mins waiting on the table patiently for me to return.
Or rather, Amber and Mia were waiting patiently as they knelt, still playing the role of the dutiful toys. Miranda, on the other hand, had apparently been pacing, and froze at my entrance, staring at me and the carrier I was holding with a frightening intensity.
Her gaze held until I approached the table and set Sydney’s carrier down with deliberate care, and at that instant it switch to focusing on the case entirely.
“I can’t believe it.” Miranda muttered, beginning to circle the case, “You actully did it.”
I ignored her appraisal and began to unlock the carrier’s door; at the sound of the latch Miranda startled, stepping back slightly before returning her gaze to me. Silently, I gestured in front of the door, so that she’d be the first thing Sydney saw when she exited into my house for the first time. Miranda made a face, but obediently stepped into place.
Getting Sydney, I knew, was something of a risk for Miranda long term; not matter how easy it was for me to overpower her, it would be almost as easy for Sydney to overpower Miranda in turn.
I wouldn’t let the Min hurt her, of course, but it wasn’t like I was going to be around to protect her 24/7, either. Locking her up when I left would help, but that wasn’t an ideal solution, since all I had to do was not be in the room at the time, or even looking, for her to be safe to act.
Therefore, I had to make sure that Sydney wouldn’t even dream of overstepping her privileges in my house, and a suitably impressive first meeting would help make that become a reality.
Quietly, I opened the door and let the new Min out; it took her a minute, since her fit in the carrier was worse than even Miranda’s had been, but she eventually managed to crawl her way out onto the table, only to presented with the sight of Miranda standing proudly before her, a hand on her hip, and a confident grin on her face.
“Hello, Sydney.”
There was a pause as the two of them stared at the other.
“Miranda?” Sydney said incredulously. “What the hell are you-”
She began to get up, but before she could get anywhere my hand closed around her head, and part of her shoulders, before slamming her down onto the table.
“Shut up.” I spat.
There was a brief struggle under my palm before she realized what had happened and gave up.
“I- I what’d I-” Sydney began, only to stop I tightened my grip on her skull.
I leaned down and hissed into her ear. “I said shut up. If you understand, then listen to me and stop making noises, am I clear?”
I waited, and she proceeded to to say anything, so I loosened my hold on her slightly.
“Good girl. Now, listen to me, I want to make something excruciatingly clear about your new situation. Are you ready?”
I let go of her head and she sighed with relief, only to freeze as I looped my finger through her long hair.
“First things first: on your knees.”
“But I-”
I lifted my finger, yanking her hair up and causing her to yelp. Sydney started to rise in an attempt to decrease the pain, but I flicked a finger from my free hand at the back of her leg, sending her back down to the table top.
“On your knees.”
At my snarl, she dropped so fast that I could hear the sound of her knees hitting the wood; wrenched up by her hair, the face that stared into mine had paled dramatically.
“Better.” At my calmer voice, Sydney relaxed infinitesimally.
“Your first lesson, apparently,” she flinched at the emphasis I put on the word, “Has to be this: disobedience will not be tolerated.”
I paused, giving her a chance to protest, argue, fight me: anything to give me another excuse to punish her again.
When she didn’t say anything, I smiled thinly. “So you can be taught. Good. As I was saying, I will not tolerate disobedience from you. You see, there’s a very simple hierarchy here, and as long as you follow it, your life can be pleasant. If you don’t…”
I trailed off leading, and she gulped, the movement of her throat easily noticed with how exposed it was.
“I am at the top of it, obviously. Next is Miranda.”
I relaxed the tension I was putting on her hair, allowing Sydney’s face to lower and face Miranda. Her cocky look had faded, to be replaced by an excited grin so wide it probably hurt.
“Then there’s Amber, and then Mia.” I assumed they had met at some point, considering their mutual history with Miranda, so I didn’t bother to point them out.
“And then there’s Daisy, that spider in the corner of the garage that has been living there for three months now.”
I heard a quiet snort in front of me at that, but I was focusing my attention on Sydney once more, watching her face drop the more I talked.
“And then there’s you, Sydney: the absolute bottom of the barrel. You may think you’re big, but in this house you are nothing, just a bug so pathetic that even one of them,” I gestured condescendingly at the corner of the table where Amber and Mia were staring wide eyed at the proceedings, “Could step on you and not even notice: that is how little you mean to me. If you hurt one of them? I will be very annoyed with you. If I hear you so much as look at Miranda wrong I will be absolutely livid.”
I yanked her hair back again, and she squealed in pain, straightening as much as she dared but staying on her knees.
“You never asked why I picked you, Sydney.” And by now she must have been regretting that oversight, but it was far too late for that. “I think it’s time I tell you your new role here.”
I pulled my finger back another inch, before relenting and releasing the pressure, allowing her to relax with a relieved sigh.
“I picked you out as a toy, Sydney, but not for me. You’re a present.”
Deliberately, I pointed forward towards Miranda.
“Do you see her there, in front of you? I may own her, but she owns you. Miranda is the one that will determine how you will be treated, whether you get food with the rest of them or slop, if you get locked up or get to roam free, if you are rewarded or punished. Do you understand me?”
Sydney nodded as much as she could against my grip on her hair, tears leaking down her cheeks.
“That’s not enough, I want you to say it. Let your new owner hear you say you understand what your role is now.”
I released her hair completely and removed my hand, leaving the two of them alone at the center of the table.
“I- I understand, Master,” Sydney whimpered, looking up my face and shuddering before turning back to face in front once again, head bowed. “I… I am jus-”
“No.” Miranda interrupted. “Not like that, Sydney.”
The large Min’s head rose, allowing her to take in the ecstatic expression her new tormentor wore.
“All the way down, Sydney.” Miranda crooned. “I want you all the way down.”
She made a wordless mewl of terror before complying, kneeling deeply until her head hit the wood.
Miranda stalked forward until she stood just in front of the other woman. She took in the sight of her, the way her body trembled, and what I thought were quiet, muffled sobs, and then sighed in contentment as she turned and sat on Sydney’s head.
She jerked at that, jostling Miranda causing her to frown, reaching down to yank at a handful of hair.
“Don’t do that.” She scolded angrily. “If I’m using you as my seat, then you better not move.”
Moving back until she straddled Sydney’s neck, Miranda grabbed another clump of hair, pulling them both as if to test their strength. Beneath her, Sydney flinched but didn’t move, and Miranda nodded to herself.
Then she began to grind her crotch against her new mount, yanking at the ‘reins’ in her hands as her back arched, causing a squeak of pain before Miranda relaxed with a satisfied sigh.
“Oh, this is nice. Now, Sydney: don’t you have something to say?”
“Y-yes.” The Min whimpered. “I- I am a toy. A g-gift, from Master, to you, Mir-”
Sydney cut herself off, quicking changing her words. “-Mistress Miranda, to be your toy, and to be used for your pleasure and entertainment.”
“Good, good.” Miranda murmured, patting the head in front of her. “That’s exactly right.”
“Can I take it that you’re satisfied, then?” I asked, amused.
Miranda let go of the long strands and leaned back against Sydney so she could look up at me, upside down, from her new spot.
“Oh yes, Ian, this is wonderful, thank you so much!”
“Excellent. Then there’s one last thing to do.”
I turned my attention back to the carrier and opened a small compartment at the top of the case, taking out the object inside and holding it out to Miranda.
“Would you like to to do the honors?”
When a Min was given to someone, along with a case to carry them around in safely, the DMC also issued a small black collar. The collar contained a chip that would allow the Min to be more easily identified, which was the official explanation for them. The unofficial but equally relevant reason was that they were, of course, also a mark of ownership, which is part of the reason I never bother to take them out before: I wasn’t ready, or allowing myself, to make such an obvious claim.
Sydney, of course, was a different story
Miranda looked down at the round object in my hand, large enough that she could wear it like a necklace, even if had been closed, and squealed. Either at the sound, or some other stimulus, Sydney shifted under her uncomfortably.
“Really, Ian? Can I?!”
I smiled. “Of course. I got her for you, after all.”
Jumping up from her seat, Miranda grabbed the collar before running back to her earlier place in front of the larger Min.
“Up!” She commanded sharply, and dutifully Sydney lifted herself to her hands and knees, only to freeze as she took in what Miranda had in her hands, eyes wide and frightened.
“Now hold still, Sydney.” Miranda said. “This should only take a minute.”
A smile on her face, she closed the collar around the other woman’s neck with a loud, final, ‘click’.
As if the sound was a signal Sydney began to cry, silent tears dropping down to bead against the table.
The real reason all the Mins in the story have long hair comes out! It’s easier to pull that way.
Well, that, and they don’t get regular haircuts.
-
Thanks for more story
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this is my favourite story on here!
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@inkchild
Thanks! That means a lot to me!I hoping to have the next part out soon, but I’m having some block on what exactly happens next, which is holding up the works.
Well, that and I’m
still having computer problemsmy computer died, but I’m working around that. -
Been awhile, hasn’t it? Just recently I was reminded that, apparently, people actually like this story, which is always a weird thing to for me to realize. In the process of getting back into this I did some world building, and got some interesting new bits that I think will actually work pretty well, but we’re not quite there yet so I have some more time to consider how to best execute them. Of course, what actually held me up once I tried to start was trying to make the characters work right, and had nothing to do with my new plans. Irony.
Anyways, hope this doesn’t disappoint.
As Miranda took in her one time rival’s suffering, drinking it in like a fine wine, an idea occurred to me. She was clearly on a roll, and I didn’t want to interrupt her when she was having so much fun, but it would be the cherry on top of this little scene.
“You know Miranda,” I said, ignoring the dirty look she threw me, “I had actually gotten you something I meant to give to you yesterday, before I got distracted.”
“Oh?” The annoyance had faded somewhat from her expression, to be replaced by a somewhat skeptical interest. “Another present for me?”
I nodded. “You, and the others, if you want.”
That earned me a raised eyebrow. “Really?”
“Tell you what: why don’t I get them, and we’ll see what you think?”
I rose from my chair, and as I did, everyone on the table flinched at the sudden motion, Miranda taking a step as I loomed over her, a hand reaching out.
“Do you mind if I borrow your toy really quick?” I asked as I grabbed Sydney’s ankle. She yelped, but we both ignored her. “Maybe give her a little tour of the house?”
As if I cared about that. I just wasn’t prepared to leave the two of them alone quite yet, and maybe she felt the same, because a relieved little smile appeared on her face as I began to pull the larger woman towards me, her fingers impotently trying to hold onto the wood.
“Of course, Ian,” Miranda smirked. “Go ahead and show her a good time.”
I had been taking her anyways, but it was important for me to at least pretend to have her permission, to better hammer the facts into Sydney’s head. With it obtained, I stopped my slow pull and yanked sharply, sending Sydney screaming off the edge of the table, with only my hold on her ankle stopping her from falling head first to the floor. I lifted the thrashing Min higher into the air for Miranda to see, and when she giggled Sydney froze, seeming to realize what would happened if her struggles freed her from my grasp.
Of course, then I began to walk across the house, making sure to swing her back and forth with every step. By the time I reached the closet and opened it, Sydney had gone silent in my grasp, and had curled up as much as she could while hanging upside down. Casually, I tossed her up into the air, my hand snatching her before she could fall.
“Alright, listen up.” I said to the shrieking Min in my hand. I wanted to have another little talk with her, away from the others. I hadn’t exactly paid attention to them when I had gotten physical with Sydney, but I could imagine watching a woman far larger than them being casually abused by someone far bigger than even her would be alarming. I wasn’t planning on being as nice as I had been earlier, and I didn’t want to traumatize Miranda.
“The time will come when I leave you and Miranda in a room together without any supervision. When that time comes, you may get… ideas. You’re bigger, after all, and it would be easy for you to push her around. Like old times.”
I smiled, and Sydney froze.
“Maybe if you hurt her enough, she might be too afraid to tell me what you did! Just bully her, and the natural order will be restored, right? After all, she’s too weak to stop you.” Sydney had grown pale as I spoke, and I dropped the ill fitting expression from my face. Somehow, it didn’t seem to reassure her. “I want you remember this when the time comes.”
Slowly I reached out with my other hand and closed it around her arm and began to squeeze. “If you hurt Miranda I will rip your limbs off.”
I leaned in closer to her with a hiss, my hand squeezing tighter. “Then I will make you eat them. And I will make sure that you finish every. Single. Bite.”
I squeezed even tighter on her arm for emphasis as I spoke. In my hand Sydney was gasping in pain, trying to yank her arm away from me, but I merely increased the pressure even more as she fought me.
“And even then, I won’t allow your suffering to simply end. I will keep you alive, miserable and covered in your own filth, as long as I can. I will have the other Mins shovel Min chow and water into your mouth as you cry, begging for the salvation of death which you will be denied. I want you to remember this: no matter what Miranda does to you, no matter what humiliation she will inflict, no matter what she wants you to do, I can, and will, do worse. I’m not protecting Miranda from you, Miranda is protecting you from me. Do we have an understanding?”
I waited a moment, but when all she did was keep mindlessly pulling at her arm, I adjusted my grip, placing the edge of my thumb nail just under her shoulder.
She froze. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You do not want me think that you’re confused about this. Do we. Have. An understanding?”
“Yes.” She said softly, shaking in my grip.
“What was that?” I asked sternly. “I need you to speak up.”
“Yes!” Sydney babbled. “Yes yes yes yes sir I understand you Master please Master don’t hurt me anymore please I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-”
I interrupted her. “Good. Good! I’m glad we could clear the air.”
I released her arm, and Sydney grabbed at her now red flesh with a sob, flinching as I pat her head with a finger. “Do me a favor: don’t mention this conversation to anyone, alright? We wouldn’t want to scare Miranda, after all.”
The Min nodded franticlly and I laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. Remember, if you want to be happy, you need to keep Miranda happy.”
Putting her out my mind for the moment, I I grabbed the box from the shelf I had left it on and began walking back to the table, blinking at how it had changed. At some point Amber and Mia had left the edge of the table to approach Miranda, who was now knelt down over them, holding them in her arms protectively, all three of them looking up at me with blank expressions on their faces.
Ah. They had heard the conversation from before. I probably should have been quieter.
I dropped Sydney on the table, trying to ignore how they jolted at my movement, and more gently placed the box on the table next to her. The second she left my hand the Min scrambled her feet and ran behind the others on the table, huddling down as much as she could, if their tiny forms would protect her.
Tellingly, none of the other Mins so much as blinked as they left their backs exposed to their former tormentor.
“Tell me, Miranda,” I said, avoiding any mention about what had just happened as I opened the box, “How do you feel about a dress?”
Her jaw dropped as I reached in and pulled out a wine red cocktail dress the size of my palm from where it had carefully laid, letting it flutter down onto the table in front of her.
Miranda dropped her friends, but they didn’t even protest, just as amazed as her by the piece of clothing I had presented them. Mia reached out to feel touch at its hem before Miranda picked up the garment with trembling hands and lifted it from the table top.
Moments later, I reached back in and retrieved a baggie with a tiny pair of stiletto heel shoes and some equally sized undergarments.
“Or maybe some shoes?”, I added rhetorically.
“What?” Miranda stared at the dress, whatever terror I had caused forgotten as she lifted the fabric, seeming almost afraid it would vanish from her hands if she wasn’t careful. “Ian… how?”
I shrugged. “I ordered it, obviously.”
Clothing for a Min was luxury, one too expensive to be afforded to the ones kept in the Kennel. Outside of it, however, there was a booming industry in Min clothing, either for giving loved one some illusion of propriety, or more commonly to make an attractive toy even more so. There was also a not insignificant portion of the market devoted bondage apparel.
Doll dresses, unlike what you saw on TV, didn’t fit the body of a real Min, and were unpleasant besides, sometimes even causing an unattractive rash on that impossibly soft skin. Even if an owner didn’t care who their Mins felt when they wore an outfit, something that ruined their appeal like that was unacceptable. Real Min clothing was made to order, since each Min had their own proportions, and was designed to feel as pleasant as possible on the delicate, extremely sensitive skin of a Min. All of that, of course, made each garment far more expensive than their size would have suggested to the ignorant.
I was more than willing to spend some money for the sole purpose of spoiling Miranda.
When the DMC had contacted me, they had given me all the Min’s measurements, and one of the first things I had done was order some outfits, to arrive as soon as possible, while making a second, larger order that would arrive at some later point. Even then, they had barely arrived a day before I picked up Miranda.
There were a couple more outfits in the box for her I’d bring out later… and a few more that she would probably not be quite as happy about, but I would want her to wear eventually. For now, though, I ignored them, and pulled out some crop tops and shorts in basic black, and set them on the table as well. For a moment Miranda puzzled at them, obviously too small for her to wear, before it clicked in her mind who they were meant for.
Amber was the one who spoke next. “For us? You got clothes for us?”
I shrugged again. “Sure, why not? I didn’t know what you looked like, so I got you a few things in black. It works with everyone, right?”
They stared at me, all of them, only to change focus to the knee high boots I dropped in front of them.
Min clothing trended more towards skimpy than covering as a whole, and I wasn’t willing to spend more on them for a more ‘normal’ outfit, so the boots were sleek, shiny high heeled things, made more to be sexy than practical. Besides, I was a man after all. I enjoyed watching women strut around in high heels, so sue me.
Still, when the little Mins picked them up, they held them as if they were the most precious things they had ever seen.
I wasn’t crazy about spending money on the two of them, but they did serve a higher purpose than just making them nicer to look at: they were, like so many other things I gave or allowed them, luxuries. Luxuries to make Miranda think that much better of me.
Luxuries I could take away from them, if need be.
And now, a luxury that Sydney was denied, but everyone else was allowed, a reminder of her place.
At that thought I looked up to check on the larger Min. I expected her to be staring at the others with envy, or maybe resentment. Instead she was staring at me, wide eyed and shaking.
-
Ah. I feel like I’m getting back into the flow of it. Also, this is a much more interesting chapter, in my opinion. In fact, I would even say it might get a little intense.
Miranda rubbed the fabric between her fingers pensively for a few more moments before looking up at me.
“Ian…” she began, only to trail off as she looked at me. Like before, I got the impression she was looking for something on my expression, though I still wasn’t sure what.
“Ian… we would like to put on our clothes. Would you please turn away so we could have some privacy?”
I lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Why?”
I would be the first to admit that I had been looking forward to seeing the spectacle of not only Miranda, but Amber and Mia as well, dress; just seeing them in their underwear alone would be more than worth the price I had paid to obtain them, but as always it was more complicated than just what I wanted.
There was a time not too long ago where I would have done what she asked without question, but there was also time even less long ago where I would have simply said ‘No’ just because I could. More than than the constant confusion of our relationship, though, there was an even more valid point of contention.
“It’s not like like you’re undressing or anything: you’re already naked. You’ve been naked the entire time. I literally have never seen the others with clothes on, ever.”
Miranda visibly hesitated, but didn’t back down before my question.
“Because… because I’m asking you. Because I’m asking you to do this, for me, as a favor.” She licked her lips nervously. “Because I’m hoping that, even now, you’ll respect my opinion enough to do this, even though you have every right to ignore me, and there’s no way for me to stop you. So please Ian. Please.”
It was a low blow. Even now, after all the twists and turns we’d been though, all the frustration she’d caused me, the fact that a simple, heartfelt ‘Please’ could hit me like that was cheating. I wanted her. I was promised her, by her, no less.
But in the end, I just couldn’t tell her no.
“Fine.” I said, more than a little bitterly, though the entire table noticeably cheered at my response. “Fine. For you, Miranda.”
She smiled. “Maybe you could… wait over at the couch, until we’re done?” She was more confident in her request this time, either at the fact that it would actually be listened to, or that she wouldn’t be punished for asking.
“We can all meet you there afterwards. I think we need to have a talk.” Miranda paused, and looked meaningfully at Sydney, who was still doing her best to hide behind people a fraction of her size.
“All of us. And it might go better if we were in a more… relaxed setting than this.”
That was actually a decent point. I was trying to establish more of a relationship with Miranda, one more than just enemies or of pet and owner, and my standing over them as they stood on the table probably wasn’t the most reassuring stance for them.
“That seems reasonable.” I answered after a moment. “I’ll go turn something on while I wait.”
It was a more undignified exit than I would have liked, and I barely resisted the urge to stomp a little as I left. Flopping onto the couch with a sigh, I turned on the television, mindlessly flipping through the channels before I landed on one of those gimmicky cooking shows.
Usually, I enjoyed the spectacle of watching Mins, once professional chefs, struggle and more often than not fail to perform tasks as simple as mixing a bowl, but today, their antics left a bad taste in my mouth. Clicking my tongue in irritation, I turned the the TV off again, and glanced down only to realize I had gained an audience at some point.
I may have actually drooled.
The dress hugged Miranda’s torso like it was painted on, with a neckline so low that her breasts were more outlined by the dress than concealed by it, and from the side it was cut so high that, from any other viewpoint than above, I was sure I could gotten a good look at her panties. A leg, magnificently highlighted in all it’s long, yet paradoxically short glory by black stockings, struck out from that gap assertively, matching the cocky grin she wore as she gazed up at my dumb expression.
It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.
And she knew it.
“Holy shit.” I said.
I fumbled for more words, and failed to find any.
I settled on, “Holy shit”, eventually, with what I felt was not nearly enough emphasis for the reality of the situation.
Miranda laughed a sweet, bell-like laugh.
“Ah, Ian, you do know how to make a girl feel appreciated, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth, decided repeating myself a third time probably wasn’t going to help, and closed it again.
She laughed even harder.
“Would you mind being a gentleman and giving us a lift? It’s hard to talk to you from all the way down here.”
Oh, right. The others were there too. I glanced at them briefly, and while the outfits did cling to them like a second skin, and while the boots did like awfully nice on them, my eyes slide their way back to Miranda in no time at all.
She noticed, and her smug smile grew larger at the realization of how much of my attention she had.
I cleared my throat before making a mock bow, bending low in my chair so I could lower my hand down to her level.
“My lady,” I said, in what was meant to be a teasing tone, but came out far more serious than I had planned. “Your ride awaits.”
Miranda curseyed, still grinning, before walking primly toward my hand and sitting on it as if it was a bench, folding one leg over the other as she did so, in a way that just so happened to hike her dress up even higher.
I’d felt that very same ass multiple times over the last few days, without any fabric separating it from my skin, yet somehow, something made the its touch on the palm of my hand far more erotic than it ever had been before: the outfit, maybe, how teased but still concealed, or the newfound confidence Miranda wore with her dress, or maybe the situation itself, the intimacy of it, as if we were lovers on a date rather than something as brutish and simple as groping or copping a feel.
I didn’t know, and I didn’t care, as long as it kept happening.
I lifted my hand, and the tiny, spectacular creature sitting upon it, slowly up into the air as I straightened up, before bringing it hovering just over the arm of my chair. Daintly, Miranda stepped onto the fake leather, before rearranging her dress and settling down on the edge, high heeled feet dangled out over my leg.
I stared at her a moment before she coughed politely. “And everyone else…?”
“Ah.”
Miranda giggled again as I bent over, taking pains to avoid knocking her over as I did so. For Amber and Mia, I lowered my hand again so they could climb on it, and if it wasn’t quite as flat or the ride as smooth as it had been for Miranda, they only had to look over at how I grabbed Sydney, pinning her arms in place, to stop themselves from voicing any complaints.
The smaller Mins I placed on the same arm as Miranda: they sat by her side, dwarfed by her in both size and beauty. Interestingly, I watched Miranda reach down to gently stroke Amber’s head, and how the woman leaned into her touch, while Mia look on in both envy and contempt.
Clearly, at some point that relationship must have changed.
Sydney, on the other hand, I placed face down on my leg, pressed up against the other arm of the chair, pinned in place by the elbow I sat on her back. She whimpered, once, as I did so, but bad no move to try and escape.
Miranda watched me do so, and her expression cooled somewhat in the process.
“Ian. I’ve realized that we need to… discuss some things. About Sydney, mostly,” and here the woman in question flinched, as if she was struck, “But also about you.”
Reaching down, she plucked Amber off of the chair and cuddled the Min to her chest, as if she was child hugging a teddy bear.
“I don’t like Sydney, Ian” Miranda began frankly. “I never have. I want her to bow and scape at my feet. I want her to cower at my displeasure, I want use her, and I want to rule her… but I don’t want to kill her. I don’t want to maim her, or even torture her. She’s a bitch, yes, but she doesn’t deserve that.”
She paused, squeezing the woman in her arms tighter, seeking comfort from the warm little form she held, before continuing.
“I heard you, in the other room, with Sydney. We all did. And I know you did it to protect me, and believe me, Ian, I very much appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I feel there are some basic realities of being a Min that you don’t quite understand.”
Miranda adjusted Amber in her grip, resting the Min in her arm and against her breast, before gesturing at me.
“To a Min, a normal person isn’t a ‘person’ anymore Ian. Think about it. Your finger is as tall as these two. You pick any of us up, one handed, and barely notice. If you stepped on one of us accidently? We would be crushed. When you look at a person, there’s an implicit understand that, largely, both you and them are equals. Even a small woman has a chance to defend herself against a tall man, after all.”
Miranda laughed, bitterly. “There are no equals here, Ian. What can I do to resist you? What can any of us do to resist you? Sydney is, without a doubt, the largest Min I’ve seen in my life, the largest Min I’ve ever heard of, and look at her! You’re not doing anything, and she can’t even move! Does something able to do that sound like a person to you? Or a human being?”
She sighed. “You are not a human to us, Ian. You are a force of nature, a god: something that can’t be stopped, can’t be fought, can’t be resisted in any way, only avoided or appeased. You are a god, Ian Hunter, and you are a terrible one, a cold, cruel creature whispered about in the dark of night, a Min’s nightmare. You adore me, and treasure me, but it is only me that you extend these feelings towards, it is only me that you would protect, and no one here doubts that you would kill them without remorse if I wasn’t here to stop you. You wouldn’t relish in it, but you wouldn’t feel sorry, either, would you?”
Taking a deep breath, and blinking away tears, Miranda curled up on the chair, tucking Amber under her head. I didn’t, couldn’t, say anything, and after a moment she continued.
“Mins live in a world filled with gods, a world for gods, with tools and objects beyond us petty mortals. We live in a world where we are loathed by those who hold absolute power over us, who consider us, rightfully, as less than people, less than Them. We live in fear that today is the day some god or another may decide that today is the day we shall be hurt for their amusement, played with as toys… or worse. We pray that today is the day a god might look down on us and find us worthy of some absent, backhanded generosity, the gift of crumbs instead of going hungry, the mercy of being felt up with a gentle finger instead of being clenched in a tight fist.”
Miranda was crying, now, and I was afraid moving would only make things worse, would drive her away, so all I could do was watch as the woman I loved broke down next to me.
“We are afraid, Ian. We are afraid, always afraid, of anyone we see. The fact you exist is a threat to us, Ian, to any Min, and the way you act, the way you look at us, so distant and uncaring? It’s fucking terrifying. Sharks are supposed to look at people like that. You look at me, and it’s so… kind, and warm, and filled with so many emotions, but I wonder, sometimes-”
She stopped. Shivered. “Sometimes… sometimes I look up at you, and wonder if I’ll see anything looking back at me, if it’ll be as flat and as empty as the way you look the others, if you’ll stop-”
As Miranda talked, her voice had grown more and more frantic, before I spoke over her with one simple word.
“NO.” I said, trying to drive away her terror with the sheer determination in my voice. She froze and looked at me, wide eyed, as I continued to talk.
“No. Not you, Miranda. Not you, never you.”
Slowly, inch by pain stacking inch, I lifted up my hand and brought it towards her, as she stared at it with all the unreasoning terror of a cornered animal.
“You are special to me, Miranda,” I continued, lowering my voice, trying to make it soothing and gentle, “You’ve always been special to me.”
The hand continued to approach, and still she didn’t move. In her arms, Amber gazed out towards it with dread, unable to escape Miranda’s grip.
“Always.”
My hand closed around her, and Miranda started at the contact, her eyes suddenly focusing.
“You will never be like the others.”
As she was lifted into the air, my other arm, just as slowly, rose from its living rest. Ever so gently, a finger wiped away her tears.
So. As it turns out, blatantly giving no shits if someone lives or dies is scary, especially if they depend on you for everything. Who’d thunk? Not Ian, that’s for sure.
-
Carefully I rested Miranda upon my leg, back supported against my chest, and brushed her hair over her shoulder with a finger. For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of stroking its length, and the body it both concealed and highlighted, before pulling my hand away.
“Wait.” Miranda said suddenly, and I froze.
“You… you can keep doing that, if you want,” she continued, sounding embarrassed and pleased all at once. “Petting me- Petting my hair, I mean.”
And then, softer: “It feels nice.”
It was, of course, an invitation I could not possibly refuse, and I had to take pains to stroke her at the same pace as I had before, rather than anything more enthusiastic, and resist the urge to do anything more than brush at what her hair covered.
For a few enjoyable minutes, I simply relished the feel of Miranda against my finger and body, and the peaceful time we spent together, letting her recover from her outburst from before.
Eventually, though, I spoke up.
“You know,” I mused, “I’m almost insulted.”
On my leg, Miranda’s body tensed up, but as I continued to calmly pet her hair without reacting she slowly relaxed.
“I mean, let’s be honest here. After we’ve come this far, after all this, the fact that you’d think that I’ll just… lose interest in you is frankly ludicrous to me. Our relationship here is founded on our agreement, right?”
I paused, and once she realized I was waiting for a response, Miranda nodded silently.
“I know you’re not stupid, Miranda, I can’t believe you really think that agreement actually means anything. Ignoring how worthless a verbal contract is… the idea of making an agreement with a Min at all is a joke. Assuming we found someone willing to write it out, we could have signed a contract, and if I had taken your friends at the DMC after I had signed the paperwork no one would have so much as blinked. Hell, even if I had ‘sampled the wares’ beforehand I doubt anyone would have cared. So the agreement is complete garbage unless you trust me to keep to its terms without anything to force me to do so. Unless you trust me to treat you like a person.”
I stopped again, trying to gather my words. Somehow Miranda seemed to sense this and remained quiet, simply leaning into my hand as it stroked her rhythmically.
“You could excuse it as a fig leaf justification, I suppose, but even if we did, what was it you said? ‘Kept you in a birdcage to sing’? Even if I had done that much, I’m sure you know better than I would how much of an improvement that would be. Expecting more would be unrealistic at best, and what I promised you would be a fever dream to anyone else. At yet you asked, and I delivered, again and again and again. The adoption itself, the clothes, the Min house… all of them are big, but compared by the authority you keeping reaching for, that I keep giving you, that is nothing. Plenty of rich people spoil their Mins, right? It’s like keeping your dog happy or something: you don’t want to see them miserable, but you wouldn’t let that dog decide to adopt another dog, would you? All that I’ve given you, all that I’ve done for you, and you think that tomorrow I’ll just throw you aside like trash…”
I sighed. “I know you’ve been in a bad place, but it honestly hurts, Miranda.”
There was another pause, this time on Miranda’s end as she considered my words. She didn’t make any motion to stop me, so I was content to sit and wait, petting her until she was ready to say her piece.
“You say that Ian,” she began carefully, “But I still don’t understand what it is you want exactly, from me, from adopting me, from…”
Miranda hesitated briefly. “From this relationship. From us having a relationship at all, as anything more than Master and Min. If you just wanted my body, you’ve had your chance. You’ve had it for days now. If you just wanted me to give it to you willingly, instead of by force, well… I’m sure you could have made that happen as well.”
I sighed. “I keep telling you this, but you never seem to understand.”
I shifted in my seat, bringing Miranda to my chest and wrapping my arms around her, as tightly as I dared.
“I want you, Miranda. All of you. I want to hold you in my arms, I want to see you when I wake up in the morning, and before I go to sleep. I want to watch movies with you, and share meals at the table with you. I us to talk, and share jokes. And while you may be right, in that I want something more physical as well, and I’d be lying if I was tempted to simply take it…”
I trailed off. “I don’t want it by force, or by blackmail. I want it, you, willingly. Truly willingly, not because I’m holding something hostage, or that you’re too afraid to say no. Not just a simple physical relationship, but an intimate one. I want you to be happy, Miranda, and I want you to be happy with me. As happy as me, that the two us are together like this, forever.”
“Y-you, you want alot, Ian.” She was stammering, but it wasn’t from fear, or nervousness.
“I know.” I agreed. “It’s worth all the work I’ve put in, and more.”
“What you’re asking for… that could take a long time to achieve, Ian. Years, maybe.” Miranda continued.
“I’m aware.”
“It may never happen.” She insisted, sounding almost incredulous now. “I could just live here and treat you as an opportunistic bastard until the day I die.”
“Obviously.”
I was still shocked how well we getting along now, actually. Even with everything happening, I had expected her resentment of me to far outweigh whatever benefits she could get from cooperation with me in her mind for quite awhile.
And then she asked me the question again, the same question from the first day, just as confused then as she was now. But this time, there was another emotion present as well, one that she tried, and failed to hide.
“Why?” Miranda sniffled, utterly confused, and yet still filled with hope.
For a brief second I squeezed her tighter. “Do I need a better reason than love?”
And for a second time today, Miranda cried. I said nothing, did nothing, beyond holding her, and letting her tire herself out. Eventually, she stopped and sniffled, trying to regain her composure.
“You know what, Ian?” She asked me eventually.
“What?”
“There’s something you forgot.” Miranda said, sounding suddenly mischievous. “And I’ve been wondering if I should bring it up.”
“There is?”
I couldn’t think of anything, but Miranda simply giggled a little at the confusion in my voice.
“I don’t want you to touch Amber or Mia. I’m not ready for you do anything with me than this, not yet anyways.”
I froze at that, and she laughed again.
“But not once have I said that Sydney is afforded the same protection. In fact, I think I would quite like to see you have some fun with her.”
I could almost see the grin grow on her face. “Tell you what, Ian: why don’t I lend her to you for the night?”
You know, I was planning on getting somewhere juicy, but these two kept emoting over all my plans. Shorter than I’d like, Shorter than I’d like, but I decided I wanted to keep this fluffy, instead of mixing it with anything else. Next chapter, I guess.
And yes, Amber is still there, and is feeling very awkward about that fact. Ian simply isn’t bothering to think about her existence.
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